


The Real Big Omelet Job

by thetrickisnotminding



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Dragon Coach Eliot Spencer, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Impression (Dragonriders of Pern), Military, Parenthood, Post-Heist, Psychic Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-07-14 22:26:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16049822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetrickisnotminding/pseuds/thetrickisnotminding
Summary: The Leverage crew steals an ill-gotten science project from the U.S. Army.They weren't expecting a lifetime commitment.





	1. Easily Impressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another job gone sideways. Why is everyone getting carried away?

"So we got the truck off the radar. Let's open it and look at the diamonds!" Parker said triumphantly.  
  
"For the last time, Parker," Eliot said, "They're not diamonds. They're bioweapons."  
  
"But Dragon's Eggs are a great name for diamonds. More than Potatoes, definitely."  
  
Groans abounded.  
  
"Come on," Nate said. "We need to figure out what the Eggs are and how to neutralize them so we can tell the client she doesn't have to worry about her mother's work being put to immoral purposes."  
  
"'Nothing Contagious,' she said," Hardison muttered as he looked at the truck. "Guess they hadn't gotten to the weaponizing stage yet, then, a bioweapon that ain't contagious." Nevertheless, Hardison worked the electronic lock on the back of the truck very, very gingerly.  
  
When it opened, they found that a large sandbox, several feet deep, had somehow been loaded in, and packed tightly into it were five giant eggs, four dun and one golden.  
  
"Aptly named," Nate deadpanned.  
  
Before there was time for any other reactions, the cracking sounds began. One of the dun-colored eggs seemed almost on the verge of rotating within the densely packed sand. A chip of the eggshell fell off, struck out from within. Then another, and another.   
  
Eventually, a beak tore out of the shell, followed by a set of small talons, followed by the huge eyes and scrawny green body to which they were attached.   
  
Hardison stared at the little creature's sac-textured green poultry-skin. "Thing /better/ not be contagious."   
  
Eliot began to back away slowly. "All right, first order of business, people: no sudden moves and keep a safe distance until we know for absolute sure where the momma is."  
  
Nate frowned, waving his hand slightly--albeit not suddenly--in his standard bored-annoyed half-stammering way. "Eliot, Eliot, don't. I mean, clearly, Dr. Ping /was/ the mother. This is obviously some ridiculous animal genetics project that someone thought had military applications."  
  
"Nate, a living thing was not what we'd planned for," Sophie said, her back to the garage wall and therefore the only person Eliot made no attempt to glare at while constantly refocusing on the...dragon.  
  
"It's a snag in the job," Nate said. "But it's no need to panic."  
  
The tiny creature looked around... and then locked eyes with Parker.   
  
Eliot frowned back at Nate, and he frowned better. "Nate, panicking is the last thing I'm saying. Now, Sophie's in heels, and I don't trust Hardison with a stick, so to safely assess it, you, me, and Parker... Parker, step away just a little until we...Parker?"  
  
Parker stayed right where she was, eyes right ahead, acknowledging nothing.  
  
"Parker?" Nate said. "Parker, stop staring at it. We've got a situation here."  
  
And Parker's eyes widened, and her voice was raw when she opened her mouth. "SHE NEEDS _MEAT!_ "

 

****

 

Nate and Eliot were hurrying back from the closest place from which to obtain Eliot-tolerable meat. He'd probably have been even pickier, even with animal food, but time was relevant when it came to an agitated Parker.  
  
"Parker is not a biologist," Nate observed. "We've got no reason yet to think this thing is carnivorous. We may have bought half the meat section for nothing here."  
  
"Parker was serious," Eliot said. "So that's a good reason to think we might have five hungry carnivorous babies on our hands."  
  
"Only until we've conferred with the client," Nate said. "Here's hoping she's got facilities she can be confident in for... keeping her animals." Nate's mouth at least attempted to take a firm, solemn cast when enunciating 'her animals.'   
  
"What if she doesn't? Especially keeping them from the government." Eliot reflected a moment. "And getting this one from Parker. Some kinda momma-bird tendencies there already, how much she was sending us off."  
  
"Let's not assume the worst. And Parker's not a sentimentalist. She's angles and analytics. She may have an affinity for the little green thing, but all going well, she'll hand it over to where it belongs. We are currently operating under the assumption that the ba--animal and the other eggs are the responsibility of the client. Not ours." The last thing Nate wanted to discuss was parental tendencies.  
  
Eliot looked uncertain, but nodded, as they approached the garage. "We park outside and carry the stuff in," he said.  
  
"You don't think they'd let it out of the truck--" Nate stopped himself. "Right. Good point."  
  
Parker opened the side door before they could struggle with it. Without a word, she wrested the first bag from Nate's arms and dashed to the corner of the garage, where the little green thing had repositioned itself. The previously-supposed beak opened to reveal teeth, and Parker's proposed feeding plan was an instant success.  
  
Nate was still taking that in when Hardison dashed to--once Parker was safely feeding the creature--grab some of the meat. He took it to an equally bizarre, if just slightly less scrawny, creature that was now huddled under the truck. This one was blue.  
  
Two dun-colored eggs and one golden one remained in the truck.  
  
Sophie smiled at Nate as Eliot found a place to set the rest of the stash. "Congratulations, Nate," she said. "We apparently also have a healthy baby boy. Hardison's been a bit more talkative than Parker."  
  
"Nate, this is important," Hardison said once the blue thing was eating. "Secoseth and I, we ... we got a psi-link... some kinda neurological symbiosis..... It's the Flint-Vastra house from Doctor Who up in here, Nate!"  
  
"I'm sure you can talk about the science-y things with the client soon, Hardison," Nate said. "I need to try to reach her."

Nate in fact had difficulty even getting decent reception when calling the client, much less her reassurance that she could take in the ... dragons. He was hanging up--but not giving up, only a temporary obstacle--when the cracking and chipping started again, this time from the golden egg.  
  
Parker and Hardison finally looked away from their charges, but only because the creatures, too, were watching the egg.  
  
"Careful," Eliot muttered. "This one's different. Keep some distance. I got a blanket and a chewing-stick here, just in case, still. Probably good thing we've got one more bag of meat in the car--"  
  
He was interrupted by the sound of the golden shell falling away. Something else golden was flailing now, in the far side of the truck, and suddenly Parker and Hardison were clutching their heads, keening wretchedly. It was hard to say from whom the unprovoked, almost inhuman sobs sounded more bizarre.  
  
Eliot, holding the blanket and stick, started to interpose himself between the others and the truck, but Sophie didn't give him the chance. Her manolos were kicked onto the floor, her skirt was hiked up, and she was climbing into the truck and its sandbox. "It's all right, darling! It's all right!"   
  
And suddenly, Parker and Hardison were breathing normally again, and a very bemused Eliot was handing Sophie most of a bag of meat.  
  
"So it's all right, is it, Sophie?" Nate asked eventually.  
  
"She was feeling alone, Nate, but I'm here now."  
  
"So that was her doing a number on Parker and Hardison?"  
  
"She didn't mean to. The others just couldn't help empathizing."  
  
"Okay, okay, not going to get into an empathizing conversation with you right now, Sophie. So you've got it under control? At least until we can...y'know... transfer custody?"  
  
"Dasdath and the others aren't going anywhere, Nate. The client wanted them not exploited, and we can promise her that /no one/ will /ever/ do that. No one will hurt them. Ever."  
  
"Now, Sophie, I'm sure it's a beautiful lizard, but--"  
  
And the cracking sounds started again, from one of the remaining dun-colored eggs. The set of talons that sprang out was brown.  
  
After the creature emerged and appeared to be sitting calmly, no drama, Nate took a breath and turned to look at Eliot. "Eliot, look, we're going to need to keep our heads--" but Nate cut himself off, because even from an angle, what he saw in Eliot's eyes, for just an instant, was an abject terror he would have sworn was impossible from the man.   
  
Then it was gone and gone completely, but Eliot's breath hitched, just slightly. Then it did it again, and again, something vibrating through five feet and nine inches of constantly-tense muscle.  
  
But when the tears flowed, they came silently and unblinking as Eliot's eyes stayed locked on the little brown dragon's.

****

 

Nate stood in a large remote garage, watching his crew tend four hungry carnivorous babies.  
  
When Eliot finally looked up from the feeding, he looked to Nate with a quiet intensity that wasn't hostile. "You were right here, right?" he asked very earnestly.  
  
Nate raised an eyebrow. "Eliot, I've been here as long as you have."  
  
"Right. And you were in his line of sight and everything, right? Nothing was stopping him looking at you."  
  
This was the kind of day Nate was having. "No. Nothing was stopping the dragon from looking at me, Eliot."  
  
"Right, I know, okay." Eliot took a deep breath. "It was a real choice."  
  
At an annoyed sound from the little brown creature, Eliot looked back to him with an apologetic air and didn't look up again.  
  
And then chip-chip-chip went the final egg. Nate looked over to it and sighed.  
A copper-colored head burst out. Sort of a copper. Maybe a bronze color. He'd have to ask Sophie, but...  
  
The dragon looked up at Nate, bold as literal brass, and their eyes met.  
  
Nate was young and absurd and arguing theology with Paul, and Iraeth was watching.  
  
Nate was ever-so-old, staring through hospital glass, and Iraeth was watching  
  
Nate was losing at three-card monte, and Iraeth was watching.  
  
Nate was staring through hospital glass until he screamed, and Iraeth was watching.  
  
Nate was burying himself deeper and deeper into a bottle, and Iraeth was watching.  
  
Nate was staring through hospital glass until he screamed and ran and shoved and clutched, and Iraeth was there watching.  
  
In that moment, there was no hiding anything from Iraeth, and Nate didn't want to.  
  
And every impulse in him, from that which had once cradled a son all the way to that which prevented scratches on his electric sportscar, wanted to get Iraeth something to eat, right now.  
  
"Oh," Nate said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Azarias.  
> Also, Hardison would very willingly admit the imperfections of his analogy. Best he could do at the moment because he never read any Mercedes Lackey.


	2. Space Between the Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a few months in hiding, the crew are still trying to come up with a plan.  
> It has to come together quickly.

Nate and Iraeth were playing chess, as far as anyone could tell. Nate had to move both sets of piece for fine-coordination reasons, but the three-month-old bronze dragon was doing pretty well.

In the prime nesting spot of the garage, Sophie and Dasdath were giving themselves a mani-pedi day, with the gold dragon's talons painted purple and cream.

In a spot which definitely operated by a different definition of prime, Teeth was tending her bed of dollar bills, coupons, and colorful toy-sale fliers. The novelty of watching Parker cheerfully hand over money had not yet worn off of the assembled humans, but she still hadn't taught the little green dragon to pull of a good lift yet.

Judging by the length of the silence near the computer, Hardison and Secoseth appeared to be in a heated debate with each other that seemed to involve a series of vandalized Wikipedia entries. This was only interrupted by the eventual printing of a sheet of coupons, which the little blue dragon insisted on taking over to Teeth's corner.

The course of the debate between Eliot and Koth had been much easier to follow. Eliot felt that cheeseburgers, complete with buns, were not good for obligate carnivores and that Koth's inquiries as to whether they were good for Eliots was beside the point. Koth nevertheless had won out, and as he wolfed down his victory, Eliot sat beside him, putting his arms around the little brown dragon the way he'd be far too considerate to do with a dog. "Don't worry, man," Eliot said. "Soon as we figure out how, we're going to take you somewhere you can really stretch out, maybe do some hunting. I know this island... just wait 'til you see it." Eliot shut his eyes, reflecting... and he and Koth disappeared.

 

****

The most important thing was to calm down Sophie. Sophie was, Nate would admit in the tiny corner of his own mind that admitted things, no more hysterical than anyone else, but her panic was Dasdath's panic, which was everyone's panic, layered over their own, looping back around in a mass of youthful claw-instincts and adult anxieties.

"Sophie, we've got nothing that indicates there's such a thing as spontaneous dragon combustion."

"We don't know _anything_ about dragon _anything_ , Nate! Hardison said the notes were so incomplete, they were incoherent."

Hardison was sitting, tense. "This... this must be where the string theory came in. I... I thought that was just gibberish to throw off the feds, keep 'em from replicating her work." Hardison, too, was on the edge of hysteria as he snorted. "Figured that was the best use of string theory most people'd ever manage."

"So fix it!" Parker insisted.

"Girl, I don't know what it is yet!"

They both fell silent as Sophie exhaled dramatically. "Nate, Dasdath says Koth is worried."

"That.... that's good, actually," Nate stammered. "A worried Koth is an alive Koth. What about Eliot?"

"She says Koth says Eliot's sick."

"Sick works. Where are they?"

"The island Eliot was talking about. Koth was... trying to take Eliot where he wanted them to be."

"Teleporters," Hardison said softly. "Boy straight up Bamfed him.... I... but...." He cupped Secoseth's jaw in his hands. "You... you are... even more perfect than already knew, my man." The gleeful smile on Hardison's face took on a tinge of confusion. "But... _string theory_?" 

"Nate, Teeth says she can do whatever Koth did if I can just show her the island. Hardison, can you bring up satellite photos?"

"Parker, Parker, Teeth is a child."

"She's older than Koth."

"One hour does not count. Koth had some sort of accident. Teeth does not get to try to replicate the accident. Sophie, Dasdath, please tell her no."

"Nate, what about renting a cargo plane?" Hardison asked.

"You don't want to... ah... teleport?"

"Not enough to trust Secoseth's safety _or_ the contents of my stomach to the world's worst physics."

"Good. But Hardison, we're not ready to go public, which getting everyone past a pilot would necessitate."

"I ain't talking about hiring anybody, Nate. One of my aliases has a pilot's license."

"And... did you actually attend the piloting lessons for that alias, Hardison?"

"Didn't have to! Age of the geek, baby. Flight sims!"

"Not to keep playing telephone," Sophie said. "But Dasdath says Koth says that Eliot is less sick now. In fact, she says Koth says he's not supposed to talk about Eliot's illness."

"Well, that's even more assuring."

Sophie's expression became wry as she listened. "What Eliot does want conveyed is that they're going to settle into 'the main house' on the island. Nate, I think that the reason why Eliot's remote tropical island has the kind of facilities where one says 'main house,' is one of those things we mustn't ask, because he'd tell us, don't you?"

"Maybe. Let's just see about that plane."


	3. My Corner of the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As time passes in seclusion, the crew learn more and more about dragons.

Goats.

It had taken just a few months for Eliot to ensure the island was practically covered in goats. 

"Why goats?" Parker asked one day as, some yards away, Teeth stalked Koth through the grounds.

"Because no way am I gonna try to run a cattle ranch on a tropical island when I'm the only one who knows how to do anything."

"Hey, Hardison and I are doing stuff! We're making the renovation plans." Whatever druglord or arms dealer had owned the island before Eliot acquired it had left plenty of buildings, but over half of the doors and ceilings were made for humans, and the former stables and empty hippopotamus enclosure were not as ideal as they were perplexing.

"Which is good, but it wouldn't help me hay. How're the plans, anyway? Hardison figure out how big they're all going to get yet?"

"I have a series of extremely educated guesses," Hardison called over. 

"Uh-huh. Well, it'd be nice to only have to overhaul every building on the island _once or twice_. So how educated we talking here?"

"How...?   If you want to work the computer models based on five different dragons all growing at different rates, let me tell you, I'm happy to send the current files to whatever Speak & Spell you're comfortable using. Okay? Okay. So the estimates for adult sizes for renovation are ... coming along."

Teeth pounced, and there was a sound like marshmallows being shot through a dented trombone until Koth shook her off.

Hardison looked thoughtful. "Parker, if we share a building, is Teeth going to be doing that to Secoseth a lot?"

Parker blinked. "Why do you think we wanted to share a building?"

"Don't forget the poking," Eliot muttered. "Teeth gets that honest, too."

Teeth, however, was now darting across the ground at her top speed--or, rather, what had recently been her top speed, and soon became her top land speed as her wings spread and she took off.

Parker's eyes lit up like stealing the Black Star of Queensland for Christmas. Any attempt at further conversation was superceded by the sky rushing past the young dragon's eyes.

****

"Parker! What's with not keeping Teeth out of the supply storage?"  
  
"But she did such a good job getting in!"  
  
"Yeah, well now she's eaten half a box!"  
  
"Eliot, why _did_ you have an entire box marked 'hangovers and overdoses?'"  
  
"Yeah, silly of me," Eliot deadpanned. "Can't think where I might have gotten the idea to be prepared in case people self-medicated irresponsibly."  
  
Everyone looked at Nate, who rolled his eyes.  
  
Somewhere from outside the building came a sound, an immutably inhuman sound and yet equally unmistakeably a ~HICCUP~.

The sound that accompanied _that,_ however, had Eliot blinking. "Nobody's stupid enough to use flamethrowers in an ambush." He headed for the door. "But I'll make sure we aren't being flushed out. Rest of y'all get out, take cover at the rocks, and--Dammit, Parker!"  
  
As they stepped out of the building Teeth was standing near a small bonfire that had once been a week's supply of kindling.  
~HICCUP~. The flames poured from her mouth.  
  
Sophie looked to Nate. "No such thing as spontaneous dragon combustion?"  
  
"Spontaneous, nothing," Eliot said. "There was half a pound of activated charcoal in that box."  
  
~HICCUP~   
  
Teeth seemed pleased with herself as Eliot and Hardison ran for the extinguishers, and Parker recommended she take the fun to sky.

 

****

 

"Hardison... Hardison why does Secoseth have ...headphones?"  
  
"He's trying to catch up on a podcast, Nate. I didn't want it playing on the speakers when I was trying play Old Republic."  
  
Nate could not seem to get over the joury-rigged headphones. "Podcast?"  
  
"The Hacking Humans podcast."  
  
"Is that something a young psychic dragon should be listening to, Hardison?"  
  
"We do not have a neuroethical dilemma, Nate. Mostly it's for laughing at some amateur-hour social-engineering scammers."  
  
Nate was still processing that when he walked outside and soon realized Teeth was swooping straight at him. This was not abnormal, but she didn't generally get into full dive-bombing mode with humans.  
  
The sound of her wings was around him like a sudden gale as the talons ... snatched off Nate's hat.  
  
Off into the sky the green dragon darted, doing some kind of somersault as the talons released the trilby and it ended, somehow, on Parker's head as she sat, leaning, on Teeth's back.

_Don't worry,_ Iraeth said. _We'll get the hat back when she gets tired of it. Teeth gets tired fastest._  
  
"Parker, how're the harness straps working out?" Eliot asked on the increasingly unnecessary comms.  
  
"Great!"  
  
Nate looked to Eliot. "So now we have to deal with both of them at once."  
  
"We've already got to deal with both of them, Nate. Might as well be efficient." 

"Eliot... Eliot, how much dragon-riding do you expect to be going on here?" When did they get so big?  
  
"Well, as soon as Sophie feels ready for it, and considering her general needs, we're probably going to have to make some kind of fancy-princess howdah or something for Dasdath's back. Iraeth'll be easier. Happy to give you a hand later." Eliot swung another modified harness over his shoulder. "If you'll excuse me, me and Koth are going for a perimeter check."

 

****

"So have you decided what animal shelter you're going to go to?" Sophie asked. "You'll need to be discreet."  
  
"We haven't decided on anything," Eliot said, leaning against the brown dragon.  
  
"Anything for what?" Hardison asked.  
  
"Koth wants a dog," Eliot said.   
  
"A dog? For Koth?" Hardison looked at the dragon. "Man, don't you think that's a little redundant?"  
  
"Think I proved my point on that," Eliot muttered.  
  
"I do still like the name Megabite," Hardison said.  
  
"We can't start picking out names," Eliot said sternly. "This is still a dangerous life. The army'll be on us as soon as they figure out how to get enough intel without admitting too much."   
  
"You don't gotta tell me! I've been through all your safety drills! You also don't gotta tell me because I ain't the one asking for a dog, Eliot."  
  
"Right." Eliot looked back to Sophie. "Any rate, even if Koth and I come to a decision, I'm definitely not going anywhere while Teeth's under the weather."  
  
"I still don't know what's up with that, but Parker does _not_ want to talk. Teeth didn't start eating boxes again?"  
  
"No. I--"  
  
But further discussion was interrupted as Teeth suddenly darted out of her building and into the sky. On paper, this had become a common enough occurrence. Today was different.  
  
Today, something felt strange.  
Especially as Secoseth and Koth took off as well.  
  
"I'mma.... I'mma check on Parker," Hardison said, heading for their building.  
  
Part of Eliot wanted to go with him to see if Parker was okay.  
  
Another part of him _really_ wanted to see Parker.  
  
A third part was intensely disturbed by the lack of control of the second part. And since that part was Eliot Spencer to the last inch, he headed toward's his and Koth's own building, and the shower.   
  
"Come down, man," Eliot was muttering as he walked, on edge and shaking his hair out. "If she's in heat or something, we don't need you -- What do you mean, 'don't want to hurt her feelings?' Okay, fine, just go long enough to sell it, and come down. You know you're no good at her loop-de-loops anyway."  
  
It was a long, cold shower.  
  
Afterwards, Parker and Hardison did not want to talk about it. Teeth and Secoseth were curled up in the sun, as were Dasdath and Iraeth, which was common enough.  
  
Looking out at this, Eliot sat with Koth and sighed. "All right, man. We'll get you a dog."


	4. Left, Right, Left (Won't You Come Out)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new revelation is always inevitable when things have gone too smoothly.

"Nate, NATE!" Hardison called. "You gotta see this." He directed the video to play on the wall screen he had installed in the small island estate house, because of course he had.

"Now recording, Captain," said a woman's voice.

"This is Captain Samuel Morrison, speaking on behalf of Operations Team Delta 3 of the U.S. Army 75th, Rangers division," the man said as the camera panned back, revealing six Army Rangers (the woman recording had clearly declined to shoot selfie-style), one gold dragon, one bronze, two brown, one blue, and two greens. All were young dragons, recognizable at the stage the crew's own had been at near six months.

"At the time of this decision, the unit consists of myself and Davith, 2nd Lieutenant Marcia Escalante and Amyranth, 1st Lieutenant Daniel Deleon and Xesuth, Corporal Harold Ngyuen and Yeth, Corporal Lance Fields and Levoth, Corporal Sandra Oliver and Pollith, and Sgt. Terence More and Nanneth."

The crew-cutted sergeant took one step forward in front of the second green dragon. "Sir, it's Teresa, actually. Sorry for the extraneous information, but Nanneth really wanted it told accurately, sir."

"All right, Sergeant."

"I've met Lt. Escalante," Eliot said, breaking the silence in the room with matter-of-fact commentary that didn't address the seven baby-elephantine reptiles in the pictured room. "She's a poster girl. Unshakeable. She'd be cool on the comms if her hair were on fire. But she's not talking."

The captain was clearing his throat. "We have been grateful for our opportunity to serve in the 75th. But command choices regarding the obviously top-secret bioweapon project Operation Dothraki have put us at an impasse."

"Oh, they did not," Hardison muttered, but he soon cut himself off as the camera rapidly turned around.

2nd Lieutenant Marcia Escalante looked like a fashion doll had been put through Special Forces Assessment and Selection, but her smile was straight out of Taxi Driver. "You see them," she told the camera with pleasant even-ness. "Do they look like something you can put in a fucking cage?"

"Lieutenant."

The camera turned back around.

The captain nodded. "As the lieutenant says. The distress on Amyranth by command's treatment of some of her family is unsustainable. We regret what will clearly be a dishonorable discharge from the service, but feel our departure has the best chance of preventing the loss of many American lives. Of our own accord, Delta-3 out."

The video ended.

"Hardison," Nate says, very softly and evenly. "I thought Dr. Ping's notes indicated the genetic synthesis could never be replicated."

"It can't. It _can't_. She went Defcon-Nana on her materials when she decided she couldn't trust the DoD."

"And yet..." Nate said.

Eliot scowled at Hardison. "Told you to let me help with the Mandarin."

"My Mandarin is _fine_ , okay? I don't care how good you are at telling people how many bones you'll break; you would not understand this stuff."

"And you understood it perfectly. Obviously."

"I managed to keep reading when the old lady pulled out _string_ _theory_ , all right? So...so _maybe_ I misread the part about the failed cell-clutch in a liquid-nitrogen cannister."

"How many in the 'failed' clutch, Hardison?"

"...Eight."

"Well, we just saw seven," Nate said. "Wonder who they put in the cage."

"Nate, I can't stand it," Sophie said.

"Sophie, It's going to be okay."

"But look what almost happened, Nate! Those are some _distinctive_ hats." Sophie nearly snarled the word as she looked to Eliot. "They give people hats like that when they plan to make them do what you used to do."

"Not... not always," Eliot said. "But... Sophie, we've figured the DoD wasn't planning to give dragons to the Corps of Engineers or the National Guard."

"But this makes it _real_ ," Sophie lamented. "Those wankers were going to try to force Dasdath into being an _assassin_."

"Well, actually" Nate felt the need to interject. "Most likely, she'd have been the assassin's getaway car, or quite possibly, the others would have been the getaway cars, and she'd have been a black-ops comms relay, especially if they were hoping to keep--"

"Dasdath Could Never!" Sophie declared. "She's a sensitive soul. It's just so infuriating to think of the trauma they almost inflicted on my delicate girl."

From her spot, where she was chewing on the spinal column of what had once been a goat, Dasdath looked up with concern at Sophie's continued stress.

"Yes, but Sophie, nobody is inflicting anything on her. Nothing's interfering with Dasdath's...refined temperament. And this news that we missed something is difficult to hear, but really, it means the people who were most prepared to come after us will now be ... Eliot, what will they be doing now?"

"The Delta-3s? Well, I mean... these are special forces, Nate. Some of them are obviously fresh to it, but ... you don't _get_ there without a _lot_ of commitment to the service. And some of these people have done things they had to tell themselves some pretty twisted bedtime stories about just to keep going. And then, they met someone who just _looked_ at them and looked at _all_ of it, no... no defenses." Eliot found something to look at that wasn't anyone else. "And, knowing everything they'd done, decided they...they loved them." Eliot paused for a moment.

"Yes," Nate filled the silence. "And something happened that made them think the government couldn't be trusted with their dragons. I think we can all definitely understand there's nothing they wouldn't do to keep them safe."

Eliot nodded. "But from their particular situation...when someone's dedicated their life to serving a cause, and then, in one way or another, they can't anymore, it's...it's the floor out from under their feet, Nate. If I'd met Koth when I was freefalling..."

"What will they do, Eliot?"

"Good news is they seem to be trying for their own version of what we did. They're extremely well trained for going to ground."

"And if they fail at that? If they're threatened further?"

"Rambo with dragons."

 

****

 

The team settled in for a briefing. "All right, Hardison, what's the DoD saying about us now? Are they still keeping the public calm with the idea it's a hoax?"

"Yep. Dragons are a goddamn weather balloon. It helps that they've got the support of a good chunk of the internet explaining how they can tell by the pixels. People don't know if it's an alternate-reality game or what the viral marketing is for, but it already has as much online fanfiction as Money Supermarket Commercials."

Everyone silently but collectively decided not to ask what those were, which made Hardison pout.

Finally, Parker asked, with carefully practiced love, "Is the fanfiction any good?"

"Well, let's see," Hardison said, pulling up a file and scanning quickly through various entries. "'Laying luxuriantly against the golden scales...shiny skin ...gleaming beast'...Now that is hurtful. That is. This is all non-metallic-dragon erasure."

"Hardison," said Nate.

"Right, right. So, yeah, not so much a public outcry as just digital ink spilled, so the DoD's happy about that at least."

"But these are real people, with records and families," Sophie said. "How are they covering that up?"

"Well, the Escalante and Nguyen families vanished from their homes recently, and let me tell you, I was very, _very_ relieved to get a hold of the DoD memo complaining about not being able to find them.The rest didn't have close families."

"Any other memos, Hardison?"

"They are keeping a lot of this out of the easy places, which makes me think they're being smart. Mostly can only find the...less-smart.  Oh-so-practical-right-now stuff like the guy who apparently didn't hear the sergeant and says since someone they had down as Terence got a girl dragon, the late Dr. Ping's warnings that there had to be women present when the eggs hatched was probably just raving."

"Yeah, after losing two clutches of dragons, one way or another, the best thing to do is complain is that you were too careful and took the mad scientist too seriously," Nate muttered. "Anything on the mention of a cage? How do you keep someone who teleports in a cage?"

"Don't know," said Hardison. "The DoD in the past six months has been reaching out like crazy to biologists, neurologists, engineers, bio-chemists, and _so_ many physicists, but trying just as hard to not tell them the whole story."

Nate nodded. "So, the question is what to do now. Do we try to find them to make sure they're not going crazy? Sophie, could Dasdath talk to this Amyranth?"

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "They haven't been introduced, Nate."

"But if she could just reach out, just like talking to Koth across the world, but looking for a stranger. Except the stranger is just like her."

"She wants to know why she would want to do that. And honestly, she's a little hurt by your putting it that way. Like you don't think she's special."

"Of course I think she's special, Sophie. Unless we're wrong again, there are only two gold dragons on the entire planet."

"Dasdath feels comfortable with this, and that Amyranth, whoever and wherever she is, is welcome to some other part of the world."

Nate sat, quite aware of how long Iraeth had apologized to Dasdath for Nate's referring to her as a lizard in the hour of her birth. "I see. Well, if we're concerned about the Delta-3's psychological stability, perhaps we shouldn't risk starting any sort of turf war."

Sophie nodded in a 'good boy' way. "Besides, Nate, do we really want her casting her mind out there erratically? What if there's something else out there listening?"

"Well, that's a fun thought to go to sleep at night with, Sophie."


	5. Do You Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, someone had to show up.

They'd had another drill that morning.

"Hardison," said Nate. "Do you know what went wrong?"

"Wrong? Grabbing what I can, practice-erasing what I can't, getting on his back, getting the straps on, and then all the careful-concentration to tell him the rendezvous point, all in 11 minutes, is _not bad_ , Nate."

"Teeth and I were at the rendezvous in 2," Parker said.

"All you had to do was grab a harness and Bunny."

"Hardison," Nate said. "You could have saved a few minutes of that if not for all the fumbling with the Dramamine. Did it even work?"

"It did not."

"Teeth and I never had that problem."

"Parker, you have spent a lifetime upside down. Other people were not built to defy physics like that."

"Everyone else has gotten over it."

"We are working on it."

"All right, all right," Nate said. "You've had time for the dose to settle this time. Let's go home. Everyone together."

As the five dragons appeared on the grounds, a sixth dragon was present.

Seeing the riderless bronze, Nate started to stammer out the signals, but before the plan came together, Iraeth answered, _It's not an emergency. There's only one of him, and I'm bigger._

_Is this Captain Morrison's Davith?_ Nate asked him silently. _Does he say anything?_

_Don't know who he is, but he says..._ Iraeth conveyed the image of an old-fashioned glass.

A small, rumpled figure walked out from behind the dragon. "Hello, Nate."

"Sterling," Nate said as he dismounted. "How many clutches are there?"

"Just the two. I'm absolutely certain. We're officially in an exclusive club."

As the crew gathered around warily, Sterling produced a card, which he handed to Nate. It closely resembled Sterling's regular Interpol business card, except under 'James Sterling, Roving Investigator' was engraved 'Evereth, Bronze Dragon.'

"I was brought in to investigate a theft because of my experience tracking your lot," Sterling said. "I ended up at the right place at the right time."

"Before or after you found our location and told them?"

"Never got around to telling them, what with the DoD's trying to hurt Evereth for picking a middle-aged Interpol agent over a 20-year-old red-blooded American boy." Behind the mein of Sterlingness, there was something bright and brittle in his eyes, and Nate had his suspicions as to whether 'trying' was the appropriate word.

"Were there cages?"

Sterling was clearly refusing to let himself flinch. "Cages, drugs. None of it worked, of course, but they tried until everyone was very, _very_ upset. The American government has no idea what expecting dragons to be ... transferable... has cost them."

"So why aren't you with the A-Team?" Hardison asked.

"They're good people," Sterling said. "And of course," he started to add in the manner of a practiced relaying, "Amyranth is the second-prettiest dragon in the world--" Sterling blinked. "Second-prettiest? Since whe--?" he looked back to find the smaller bronze staring at Dasdath, who preened.

_He is not wrong about who the prettiest is, but I like him less when he's right,_ Iraeth said.

Nate frowned. _I understand you completely._

"Anyway," Sterling said. "Much gratitude to the Delta-3s, but we don't fit in. Needed a breather."

"Hey," Eliot interjected, looking at Sterling suspiciously. "If you got on the DoD's bad side and indirectly sent an entire spec-ops squad AWOL, when did you have the time to get _new business cards_?"

"Eliot, there's one thing you and I agree on. When something's important, you _make time_."

"All right, I'm calling a meeting," Nate said.  
  
"That's a good idea, Nate," Eliot said, his eyes not leaving Sterling. "If you need something from me, Dasdath can just ask Koth, of course." His gaze didn't break when a part-Australian-shepherd, part-Catahoula, apparently-part-rag-quilt moved to his legs. "Easy, boy."  
  
"And there's a dog," Sterling said.   
  
Eliot nodded. "He's Koth's."  
  
"Your dragon has a dog," Sterling said, staring at Eliot. "Isn't that a little redundant?"  
  
Hardison's glare at that was merciless as he walked toward Nate, for reasons of Sterling.  
  
Soon, however, they were momentarily alone.   
  
"Tell me you looked after the kid. Preferably without poisoning anybody you conned into helping you."  
  
"Sgt. More's coffeemilk remains untouched. She and Olivia get along splendidly."  
  
"So when are you leaving? I want to know how long I have to watch everybody's drinks. Which reminds me, flirting with Dasdath is between the six of you, but if that little green one out there goes into heat again when you're here, and your boy starts to follow? You talk him down. You talk him down, if you want to keep everything you talk with."  
  
"I'm not interested in interfering with anyone's hanky-panky any more than I'm interested in interfering with Captain Morrison's command." Sterling paused, thoughtful, for a moment. "Substantially less so, actually."  
  
"I'll bet. Gotta be driving you crazy not to be ordering everyone around from a little corner office, huh?"  
  
"There'll be another. With two plaques on the door. Bronze engraving."  
  
"Sterling, why are you here?" Eliot asked. "There's a dozen places you could have gone for a break."  
  
"You say the green went into heat. Any eggs?"  
  
"What? No. Why?"  
  
"Figured not. Too small. If Ping left room for breeding, it's got to be the golds."  
  
"Sterling, _why_ are you _thinking_ about this?"  
  
"Oh, I'm not interested in the burgeoning black market there'll be for any new eggs that are possible. I'm just interested in making sure Olivia gets what she deserves."  
  
"What." Eliot's tone so flat it was no longer truly a question, but Sterling answered it anyway.  
  
"A gold dragon."  
  
"Oh, it's going to be a gold one, huh?"  
  
"Only the best for my princess."


	6. Not Sure Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of consideration about the continuation of a species.

Once the dragons were grown, things returned to a very new normal. Instead of near-constant maintenance of the dragons and their habitat (more food, more attention, more diverted satellite cameras), they started running cons again.   
  
The dragons were all for it. Helping was exciting, even when their contribution was mostly to bring people places and then find somewhere else to be for a little while. They still got to keep up with the action.  
  
And on very rare occasions, when necessity warranted it, the dragons were happy to client-sit.  
  
The existence of giant winged creatures that defied classical physics had not yet reshaped society. Aside from the Finance Minister's 'professional offer' to Sophie during the Volunteer March Job, most people either accepted that the video was fictional or insisted on pretending to. 

Dr. Wendy Ping continued discreet studying and gnashing-of-teeth over her mother's work.  
  
And the occasionally sat-for clients... managed not to make a scene afterward.  
  
For various reasons on all sides, one of them being his desire not to interfere with his chances as a witness in The Hague, Sterling mostly did not get directly involved in their work. He and Evereth did, however, visit frequently, much to Dasdath's, and only Dasdath's, delight.  
  
And one of Sterling's favorite conversation topics was one of Nate's least-so.  
  
"No," said Nate. "No, the DoD would have completely axed the idea of dragons with natural fertility. Leaves too many variables. They'd have wanted to control that. Anti-proliferation."  
  
"Oh, well, all right then," Sterling said. "Then it just can't be so. A measured, respectful view of the DoD's wishes is, after all, exactly what we've come to expect of the late Dr. Ping."  
  
"Sterling..."  
  
"She destroyed all the reproduction materials, Nate. Do you really think any scientist whose career culminates in inventing _dragons_ is going to want them to be extinct in a generation? Do you think someone who plays goddess like that doesn't want grandkids?"  
  
"She could have just pressured her actual daughter for that."  
  
"Dragon instincts might be more reliable. I know I'm hoping for a nice genealogy chart with Evereth's name at the top."  
  
"I think this visit's gone on long enough, Sterling."  
  
" _I_  think the sudden departure of guests would upset the lady of the house. Why did Spencer cut short his latest little surveillance abroad?"   
  
Nate glared. "...Dasdath asked Koth to come home."  
  
Sterling smiled. "Sorry to hear she's feeling under the weather, of course, but I'm told she looks even more radiant than normal."  
  
"Do you realize the trouble you are asking to get yourself into?"  
  
Sterling shrugged. "Can't say I wouldn't rather cheer strictly from the sidelines, but I'm not going to hold Evereth's instincts against him because they don't conform to my societal norms. Partnership goes both ways, and I get the feeling dragons need a _race._ "  
  
And the very next day, a race there was. Iraeth won. Sterling left that evening smirking, nevertheless, saying he'd be in touch.  
  
And the moment Nate emerged the next morning, Eliot was watching him. The various microexpressions were a different flavor of Eliot-concern than his usual exasperation.  
  
"What?" Nate finally asked.  
  
"You've had your buttons pushed a particular way, I'm not cocky enough to think I know every single hiding place on the whole island, and there's not a liquor store in the world that ain't eight seconds away from us."  
  
"I haven't had a relapse in a while, Eliot. Insecurity about _Sterling_ is not going to do it. And as it happens, no bad luck there, so..."  
  
"Sex ain't the keyword here, Nate. Possible pregnancy is. Don't pretend you ain't thinking it. Don't need Sophie to read you on this."  
  
"Not going to happen. And if somehow it does, I'm perfectly capable of staying uninvested enough to stay sober by myself."  
  
Eliot just continued watching until Nate was back with Sophie. He walked out to the beach with Koth, staring at the water for a while before climbing on the dragon's back.  
They disappeared for one hour.When they reappeared, beneath Koth on the sand was a Toyota Hilux, a heavily tattered black flag dangling from its antenna.  
  
As Eliot dismounted, he pulled a stopwatch out of a pocket. "Okay man, go to it."  
  
48 seconds later, the truck belonged more in the Guggenheim than on a mountain backroad, and Eliot smiled.

****

When Wendy Ping came to the island, Hardison helped her joury-rig an ultrasound machine. She was entirely clear that this was not the kind of doctor she was, but also resigned to the lot of a scion of a creator goddess enough to help confirm a dozen eggs gestating.  
  
Arguing that there could be numerous reasons Dasdath was putting on weight was no longer going to work. Nate tried to do what he did: to look around, to send his mind through the room, observing all the pieces on the board for one frozen moment.  
  
But when Iraeth said _Going to be a father_ , Nate instead felt like he was riding a whirlwind.  
  
He tried to pay attention when Dr. Ping the Younger explained that she was unable to sex the internal eggs via ultrasound at this time. He nodded slowly--so very slowly--as everyone agreed they'd need a lot more than 12 people waiting near the eggs when they hatched, so as not to risk the newborns' safety in the face of incompatibility issues. Sterling had said one of the Delta-3 dragons had looked away from several people in a crowded room before finding someone.  
  
_Safe is better_ , Iraeth agreed.   
  
"So, aside from one hell of a sandbox, we fix ourselves up some little dorms, right?" Eliot asked.   
  
Again, the nod came slowly. "We.... we start clearing out the little storage warehouse here to put in our off-island places. Get beds in. Put up some screens. A boys' side and a girls' side."  
  
_Koth will be good at finding people_ , Iraeth said.   
  
Apparently, that was an agreement among the dragons, because Sophie looked to Eliot. "No one too young, Eliot. It was only a year before Teeth went into heat."  
  
"Not too old, either, Eliot," Nate said. "Let's... let's do what we can to see they'll have a lot of time together."  
  
  
                                             ****  
  
Once the eggs were actually laid, Koth had proven to be very good at finding people, and Eliot had proven to have very interesting ideas on where to look.  
  
"...And this is Gloria Alvarez. She's from Jalisco. This is Farah Dhar. She's from Kashmir. Mickey Flores is an old family friend from San Lorenzo. And this is Joe Luwum. He's from Northern Uganda."   
  
The rather slight African teenager looked around, smiling in wonder, before a wearied pain crept into his face. "I'm not what you need. I'm not--"   
  
"Kid," Eliot interrupted him. "Who're you going to believe? A few jackasses, or a dragon?"


	7. If

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Education is so important.

Eliot Spencer ran on the beach, and 24 people from ages 17 to 27 followed, striding awkwardly over the sand. No one complained about the pain in their legs, nor did anyone discuss or debate the relative ease on the feet. They kept busy moving and kept busy breathing.  
  
It was blissful like that.  
  
Koth flew above, carefully supervising everyone's well being, in addition to making sure his dog did not get underfoot. Somewhere near the three-quarter-mile mark, he was joined by Secoseth. A boombox was strapped on the blue dragon's back in a modified harness, blasting 'Eye of the Tiger.'  
  
The general damnation of Hardison-directed matters was not voiced, as Eliot had no intention of distracting the students further by letting it appear to get to him. As it was, very few of them got the joke.  
  
At break time, Hardison came out, just as everyone sat, caught their breath, and drank their canteens of Eliot's specially-made lemon-water. Hardison was carrying multiple bottles of orange soda.  
  
"Do /not/ go giving the kids any of of your processed-sugar crap," Eliot said. "Especially not Gloria."  
  
"See, I'm hurt. Hurt and offended that you think I'd interfere with your plans, Coach Eliot--wait, why especially not Gloria? She allergic or something?"  
  
"No, but we've got a cooking exchange going, and if you manage to ruin her palate before I get the perfect pozole verde written down, you're gonna regret it."

"So what's next?"  
  
"Next is awareness training, then IED protocols."  
  
"How about the protocol of 'never going to, or back to, anywhere that has or might have a lot of IEDs'?"  
  
Eliot looked at him. "Seriously? You're gonna even joke about the 'thank god it's them instead of you' philosophy when the kids might hear you?"  
  
Hardison spread his hands. "Sorry, man."  
  
" 'sides, if they stayed away from anywhere potentially dangerous, they'd end up trying to leave the planet."  
  
Hardison smiled quietly for a moment, then shook it off. "So, what after that?"  
  
"Lunch is a cooperative exercise. Then we're going to discuss other facilities maintenance here. Then I'm giving them to Sophie."  
  
"...What do they need acting school for?"  
  
"They don't, but things happened in dormitories even /before/ there were psychic dragons around, and I ain't gonna be the one running that class."  
  
Realization dawned on Hardison. "Ohh, that's why Sophie got out the /big/ purse." He paused, then looked at Eliot. "Speaking of hanky-panky, you ever going to get over how much the dragon kind bothers you?"

"I don't get over things, Hardison. The best I ever do is learn how not to make them other people's problem anymore."

 

****

Eliot always gave fair warning on the days he would bring the students, after chores, to the particular beach that Dasdath currently patrolled. This was good. Dasdath always tried to be gracious about having the students around the dozen dun-colored eggs nestled into the sunsoaked sand, but it helped if Iraeth had a fresh goat carcass ready and offered to keep a vigilant watch later while she powdered her nose.  
  
The students stared at Dasdath, but only a little, the shine too much like staring into the sun. Iraeth stared adoringly for a while longer before looking, as she did, at the eggs.  
  
_Good eggs_ , Iraeth said.  _Good kids, too?_  
  
Nate took a breath to keep his head together.  _Yeah_ , he said.  _They seem like good kids_.  
  
Nate watched as Eliot reviewed some safety protocols with the students -- via literal lines in the sand -- regarding Dasdath's comfort zone. Then he listened to Eliot's brief speech.  
  
"Bit of a reminder, folks, half of you aren't going to match with a dragon. Not this go-round, anyway. But that doesn't make you in competition with each other. This ain't law school; it ain't baseball tryouts, and it sure ain't reality t.v. No one is trying to make you wash out. I'm not giving anyone scores to tell the eggs to judge you by. Right now, we still have no idea how all that works. All we know is that Koth thinks you all have a chance of making a connection. Past that, you'd have better control of your chances in..." Eliot gestured vaguely, not that quick to come up with an example.  
  
Nate couldn't resist. "Pitch-and-toss," he said.  
  
Eliot gave him a long look, then dropped it for the students' sake as he turned back to them. "Sure. Think of it as any game of chance you like. But yeah, 'pitch-and-toss, and lose, and start again.' The point of all this is to learn everything you can so you're prepared to handle what comes if the day these eggs starts cracking turns out to be the best day of your life, but also some potentially useful things if it turns out to just be a day when you plan again for tomorrow. If you're ready for either one--"  
  
"Then yours is the Earth and everything that's in it," Nate interjected again, half-declaiming as he looked over at the young faces, finding himself focusing on the boys and not quite able to stop doing so.  
  
_You are thinking of a poem for sons_ , Iraeth observed, and Nate was highly aware of three things:  
  
1\. That Kipling, unforgivable in many respects (including the fact that his hatred of the Irish didn't have the excuse of having ever met Jimmy Ford), had no business making him sentimental.   
  
2\. Exactly how Sam might have looked if he'd reached the age of these young men. Young men who were now his responsibility, when the buck stopped.  
  
3\. His need for a drink.  
  
Eliot snapped him out of it as his voice rose, cautioning the kids. "So don't think you can just get in one's face and insist they notice you! Right that moment, everything's either a partner, food, or a problem, and if you're not clearly the first one, don't get confused for one of the other two. Don't try the babies' talons or the momma's patience."  
  
  
  
                                                  ****  
  
"And remember," Sophie said as she handed Farah another dental dam package from the Big Purse, which she kept in the corner of The Very Nice Tent on the nesting beach. "The two of you need to keep talking. Not just about her medical concerns, but expectations with each other. You're both going through a lot. Soon you might both be saddled with an immense responsibility. Or you might both be thinking of going home. Or it's entirely possible one of you might have a dragon and the other not. I can't recommend waiting to sort out a possible relationship until one of you's on the ground and one in mid-air."  
  
As she saw the girl off, Sophie sighed wistfully.  
  
_You deal with so much. I do not know how he survived before Iraeth,_  Dasdath observed as she fussed over the second egg from the left.  
  
_It's a good question, darling._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all lucky this chapter isn't called 'Chariots of Firebreathers'. Just saying. Hardison unfortunately knew Rocky better.  
> Thanks as always to Azarias.


	8. Professional Fingertips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit

Well, a tropical island was one way of getting off the grid. 

Teresa More raised her binoculars, still readjusting to the humidity after the dry heat of 'Delta House,' particularly with the freeze of teleportation in between. It made her feel hyperaware of everything, from the dense trees around her to the still-warming barrettes pressed against her scalp, keeping back her gleefully unmanageable half-grown-out hair.  
It had been a change of pace to change from 'desert' to 'jungle,' certainly. Of course, it had been a change of pace to be back on the job at all. Oh, there was plenty of work to fill the days, patrolling and securing their current base, certainly, but it wasn't old-school recon. Teresa couldn't remember the last time she'd had to find a position for Lance to work from.  
  
_Will Lance and Levoth have to work?_  Nanneth asked.  
  
_No. This is just in case. These mobster-consultants did the right thing. The captain'll be able to talk to them just fine._  
  
_But Lance will be ready while they talk._    
  
Teresa raised the binoculars again.  _S.O.P., sweetpea. Lance is always ready. And he got twice as ready when the world turned upside down. Tell Amyranth, Davith, and Yeth about that copse of trees over there._  Teresa didn't include Levoth. Telling Levoth was telling Lance, and the Delta-3s never told Lance anything about something in-progress. You told the higher-ups, and you told Harold. Teresa loved him dearly and all, but Lance's professional world consisted of a very narrow strip of space that stretched in length hundreds of yards from himself to the target -- and the sound of whatever numbers Harold might need to give him.  
  
_Mostly looks how Evereth said,_  Nanneth noted.  
  
_Yes, sweetpea, but we can do better._  Teresa bore not a drop of ill will against Corporate Agent Man, but no one wanted him in her job.  _Tell them no sign yet of electronic defenses. Not a lot on their tech guy's M.O._  Apparently, his dragon looked a lot like Levoth. Did that make the dragon like Levoth, and thus this Alec Hardison like Cpl Lance Fields? A brilliant, goofy soul that could just ... switch off?  
Maybe not, considering Davith and Evereth. But maybe so. Dude hung out with Eliot Gosh-Darn Spencer, after all.  
  
Teresa was not happy that she did not yet know Spencer's position.   
Nothing to do but keep searching from the parts of the island they'd been fed to which they could teleport without exposure.  
  
_Tell them no sign of eggs. Plenty of goats, and ... all right, I see people. Five... ten... fifteen ... twenty people. No one described before. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, t--Spencer. There's Spencer._  
  
Spencer was raising a large knife in his hands, but this did not appear to be a repeat of what Marcia had called 'The Worst Four Seconds In a Sauna I Have Ever Heard' or any other wetwork horror story. This, instead, appeared to be fruitwork, as two dozen unknowns watched Spencer prepare a meal with what was available.  
  
_Handy. Okay, Nanneth. Give them the buildings behind, and give them the ridge to the right._  
  
Nanneth was on top of things, but she also was rather intent on something else behind Spencer. Koth, according to the reports.  _He's darker than Yeth, Nanneth said, but not as dark as Xesuth. It is a good shade._  
  
_Stay focused, sweetpea._  
  
Eventually, things were as ready as the captain was willing to wait for. Teresa stayed in position. Davith would relay everything to Nanneth, Yeth, and now Levoth, so Teresa'd hear it all anyway. Captain Morrison wanted this as normal as possible, just a lone bronze dragon teleporting into the same spot between buildings that they'd seen a lone bronze dragon enter before.  
  
Not that those two bronzes were much alike, much less their riders.  
  
"Cover Plan B!" Spencer called out, and dozens of unknowns scrambled to various spots. The dragons, Koth and Iraeth if intel was right, repositioned more calmly. The local bronze had to be several hands higher than Davith, and he looked like he knew it.  
  
Iraeth's partner, the corporate investigator turned organized crime ringleader, appeared to call off Spencer as he stepped forward, and the captain addressed him.  
  
"I'm former Captain Samuel Morrison, with Davith, here to discuss business. Lt. Escalante and Amyranth send their regards, but Amyranth didn't want to infringe on hospitality."  
  
"Much appreciated," Nathan Ford said."We'll get Sophie and Dasdath into the loop. Talking is good." There was a pause. "And we can talk once ... Levoth and Yeth, I think you said in the video?... bring their boys out from either behind the southern ridge or the brush over there."  
  
As soon as Nanneth had relayed those words from Davith, she followed it up with  _And Davith says we are blown._  
  
_Yeah, but not all of us. Ask Davith to ask the Captain what you and I should do._  
  
They say we should come down.  
  
And eight freeze-your-balls-off seconds later, Nanneth and Teresa were beside their teammates, bronze and sandy-brown and sapphire, and the consultants, who'd been joined by their blue dragon and his rider, about whom, despite her specualtion, Teresa only knew that he was wanted in Iceland.  
  
"Former Sgt. Teresa More and Nanneth," she said, smiling sheepishly.   
  
"Former Corporal Harold Nguyen and Yeth, and f--" Harold began, but Lance cut him off, starting to shift out of 'work mode' with the previous position blown.  
  
"Former Corporal Lance Fields and Levoth," he said, looking at Ford. "My reputation wasn't supposed to be precede me."  
  
It was Spencer who spoke up. "It didn't. Your record's still on the downlow. But in the video, Nguyen had a very distinctive way of standing next to you.  
  
Hardison frowned. "Eliot, c'mon, manners: you don't gotta start asking or telling--"  
  
Spencer rolled his eyes. "I'm not outing anybody, Hardison; he was standing like a /spotter/, and S.O.P. says that if you have a good sniper-spotter team, and you're going somewhere that you've only got /Jim Sterling's/ word on, you have them ready."  
  
And then Spencer actually smiled at her. "And you set 'em up in the good spots, right, sergeant? Just in case?"  
  
She smiled back. "S.O.P. But maybe some standards can change. Right, Sir?"   
  
The captain dismounted and walked tentatively toward Ford. "There's a lot to talk about," he said. "We've heard good things, but I'm not the best on middlemen."  
  
"We've heard barely more than the minimum," Ford said. "Which I suspect is Sterling trying to do right by you. But yes. We've got a lot to talk about."

The captain waited until Miss Devereaux could join them, coming as far as she was comfortable going from Dasdath, before working towards the part Teresa hated.  
  
"We hear you know the late Dr. Ping's daughter?"  
  
"Wendy Ping is at an undisclosed location," Ford said.  
  
"Of course," Captain Morrison said. "We just have some questions we'd like relayed at your convenience. Beginning with any ill health effects she might theorize would be caused by dragons' eating humans."   
  
From her expression, Miss Devereaux didn't like this subject any more than Teresa.  
  
She turned out to express it differently. "WHAT IN BLOODY HELL?"  
  
The three local dragons present all tensed, shifting their stance. While no one looked happy and Alec Hardison looked downright unwell, Teresa could tell this was mostly about Devereaux and the unseen Dasdath.  
  
_Don't let the stress get contagious, Nanneth. Just be yourself, and everybody'll calm down eventually, right?_  
  
And even in the face of tense strange dragons, Nanneth couldn't argue with that. The other Delta-3 dragons kept it together, too, and everyone tried to stay calm while the captain addressed his stomach-churning concerns.  
  
"We have a species to defend, Miss Devereaux. A very endangered species. Operatives looking for a quick genocide may soon outnumber available livestock, and we don't want anyone getting sick."  
  
Ford looked to Devereaux. Teresa didn't know if telepathy-telephone was happening through the dragons, or just the kind between people who've known each other too long. Either way, Devereaux sat back, arms folded, and didn't say more.  
  
"We'll... uh.... see about relaying the scientific opinion on that," Ford says. "What else?"  
  
"Is it true about a dozen eggs?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is the fifth member of your organization currently with them and their mother? On watch?"  
  
"Parker and Teeth are looped into this meeting remotely for safety reasons," Ford answered. Teresa wondered if the phrasing was just an indirect speech thing, or if the safety had more to do with this Parker getting agitated herself. But the captain was probably getting a better read on Ford than she was.  
  
"Have there been any overtures from governments?" Captain Morrison continued. "The hoax thing may still be holding off the journalists a while longer, but let's be real."  
  
"Even before we knew eggs were a possibility, Sophie got an offer she could very cordially refuse from the Chinese Minister of Finance." Ford said it, and Devereaux nodded along curtly.  
  
"To be clear on our end, while both green dragons have gone into heat, we've had no such behavior yet from Amyranth," the captain explained, and Teresa tried not to look at Lance and Harold.  
  
Even with Pollith having already done it the week before, even having sat with Marcia checking on Sandra afterward, Teresa still wasn't fully processing what she was in for when she sought out her ... well, the two people she'd served with the longest ... and declared, 'Lance! Harold! Lance! I'm twitchy, and I'm gross, and I think this is what PMS must be like!'  
  
Harold had immediately gotten out a bottle of KY and started explaining its use to her until she'd wanted to melt into the floor. She'd thanked him when it was all over, though.  
  
_Tell them all the boys chased. All of them._  
  
Our boys already know, sweetpea, and the consultants won't think it's relevant.  
  
But true information is important! Nanneth declared.  
  
Captain Morrison was already moving on to his next question. "Do you have any video documentation of dragon mating behavior?"  
  
Ford blinked. "We are ... not dragon pornographers, no."  
  
"Lt. Escalante got Nanneth on her camera. We're trying to understand what we can for future reference. Particularly her focus on speed and evasion tactics, despite apparently not being ... Sergeant, you're our expert in the room. Can you tell them a bit, see if anything tracks with what they've seen?"  
  
Teresa thanked every higher power that her complexion didn't show blushing easily. "Nanneth was feeling kind of... off... for a day or two beforehand, and so was I, but it was hard to tell what began with whom, because I'd also started ... um ..a new medication recently. Then when she took off into the sky, and..."  _Fine, sweetpea,_  "All the male dragons followed at first, with some ... psychotropic effects on everyone involved, I guess? But she soon shot off course until only Levoth could track. She wasn't scared, though. It was... really intense tag. Like an instinct for challenge. Definitely nobody was trying to hurt anybody." Although if Harold hadn't drilled a few things into Teresa's head about the bottle, some thing might have.  
  
Devereaux watched and seemed to nod along. She even flashed Teresa a trace of a sympathetic smile as she finished what she hoped was a professional enough story.  
  
"That tracks especially with Teeth," Ford said.  
  
Captain Morrison nodded. "Miss Devereaux, what did Dasdath eat just before going into heat?"  
  
Devereaux bit off the words, "Not. People."  
  
Captain Morrison spread his hands. "Obviously. But what did she eat? We want to compare." He looked to Teresa.  
  
She bit her lip slightly. "Nanneth just sort of drank the blood out of a goat that morning, left it for the others to finish. But, of course, she didn't have any eggs, either."  
  
Devereaux looked at her and seemed less pissed off.  
  
Captain Morrison nodded. "We've figured if we get enough information about each time, we'll be able to figure out how eating habits correlate with fertility and see if we can encourage more eggs."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Safety in numbers. Become a problem that can't be cleaned up. We're assuming from the population here that you've also got expansion in mind. We should coordinate."  
  
Another long, silent exchange between Ford and Devereaux. Teresa wished she could say something helpful but figured most things would only make it worse.   
  
Finally, Ford said, "We'll see about getting you a write-up on Dasdath's eating habits."  
  
"And while that's being hashed out," Spencer said, "Maybe we can introduce the sergeant to the kids. Let them know things are okay; get them some new dragon-related perspectives. Interested?"  
  
Teresa smiled, but looked for the nod from the captain before she said, "Sure!"


	9. Click

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two dragon factions try to understand each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much more detailed version of the analogy is known to me, but never written because I can't picture Hardison thinking about sports in that much detail at such a time. Additionally, after some non-AO3 comments, be assured that the imperfection of the Delta-3s' top-of-the-head Latin-and-translation is author-intentional.

This was unfair. This was so unfair. Eliot got to turn on the cowboy charm and walk off with the least scary person here even though he was fluent in scary. Nate and Sophie were talking to the captain even though Sophie didn't wanna right now.  
  
So here Hardison was, babysitting two former U.S. Army rangers who decided to pass the time getting a little work done. He tried not to think of whether, just before Eliot asked Nate to have them brought out, they'd been saying the same stuff about Hardison and his crew as they were now about some military-industrial complexes.  
  
_Ask Teeth if everything's okay over there,_  Hardison told Secoseth.  
  
_Everything's okay over there. Is everything okay over here?_  
  
_If Dasdath's asking, it is. If Parker's asking through Teeth, literally the only thing keeping me from panicking from being with the Butch and Sundance of death calculus is that their dragons are literally snuggling 100 feet away._  
  
Hardison did his best to follow the terse, flat voice without noticing the person behind it, but that trick never worked for him. Lance Fields was some kind of robot. But not necessarily an awesome robot, such as one might build to help a beloved associate crack safes. Hardison crushed the thought of an 'Eliot 2000,' and he crushed it hard.  
  
Obviously, it wasn't how much technical, topographical, and behavioral analysis the two rangers were rattling off that was the problem. Hardison played for the 1990s Chicago Bulls of technical, topographical, and behavioral analysis.  
  
It was the absolute focus with which Fields assumed that every political, corporate, or criminal entity described wanted them all dead or worse---and how Fields might personally kill key figures to prevent this. It was some of the most dehumanizing stuff Hardison had ever heard. Didn't beat being shoved in a pool by Damien Moreau or anything, but still.  
  
Then it was interrupted. "Okay, that's covering a few more contingencies," Harold Nguyen said. "Break time?" Fields looked away for a moment as he nodded, and Nguyen looked to Hardison. "Got any snacks?"  
  
Hardison was still staring at Fields. "I've got plenty. Is he going to turn into a person so he can eat them?"  
  
Fields slowly turned back to look at him and smile. "Like a Light-switch," he sing-songed. And expression came into his eyes again, like they really were windows to something.  
  
Nguyen seemed unsurprised by both the re-association and the showtune. "Great. The higher-ups'll keep talking. We'll be ready for anything. We've got dragons, after all. Sky's the limit."  
  
"No, it isn't," Fields said, and Hardison's stomach had settled enough for him to snicker.  
  
****  
  
"So you would have kept the secret forever without her?" Joe Luwum asked.  
  
"Maybe so," Teresa admitted. "The army was my whole life. Or I thought it was. I thought telling would have ruined my life."  
  
"But everything changed anyway?"  
  
"Yeah. The DoD wanted the dragons to listen to us, but didn't want us to listen back. It doesn't work like that."  
  
"I don't know if I'll get a dragon or not," the boy said. "But my life has changed already."

  
Teresa looked at the field cauterizations on the 17-year-old's arms. Joe Luwum had come out of a bad situation, certainly. And now he was in a curriculum administered by Eliot Gosh-Darn Spencer, which seemed to combine some harsh reality with being centered on surviving and thriving.  
  
Walking next to Spencer in all this drove home something Marcia had never mentioned in her applauding horror stories: he was short. Well, probably statistically average, but Teresa was 6'2" and had increasingly been surrounded by soldiers since she joined JROTC at 14. Average was short.  
  
As Spencer dealt with something else, Teresa asked Joe, "So, what do you think of your, um, coach?"  
  
Joe smiled sheepishly, then said very softly. "Lo, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for he is the scariest thing in that valley."  
  
Teresa smiled back. "I thought the line was evilest...thing." Evilest motherfucker, to be precise, but Teresa, for all of a lifetime in the service, enjoyed the luxury of delicacy where she could get it.  
  
Joe shrugged a little. "I've met evil, ma'am. It doesn't push your limits. It just doesn't let you have any."  
  
Then the boy fell silent as Spencer came away from reassuring someone who was apparently named Farah. Teresa certainly didn't blame the girl for needing it---the minute she heard a word of probably-Kashmiri, she knew why the girl might need a moment in the face of American soldiers---but she had to swallow a bit. Once you took off the red, white, and blue blinders, everything got a little harder to think about.   
  
With nods to Joe, she and Spencer walked a little further. "You get it?" he asked.  
  
"I get it. Heck, I'm impressed she just needed a quick talk."  
  
"I'm hoping they'll find you get a lot of things, things I'm not the guy to go to, maybe not even Sophie. It sounds like you're good with teenagers--" Suddenly he scowled. "Hope you're being careful around Sterling."  
  
"Thank you. There haven't been any problems--at least none that he intended. In a roundabout way, we want the same things. And Olivia is delightful and so smart. And Evereth's a nice dragon -- who, fortunately, is  _terrible_  with loop-de-loops." A pause. "But I think Yeth might have shoved him if he'd looked like he was better at it."  
  
Spencer snorted. "I'll have to remember that. Just Yeth?"  
  
"If Davith started shoving Evereth, they'd never stop, and Levoth..." Teresa smiled sheepishly and looked down -- a down that wasn't directly at Spencer. "His eyes were on the prize."  
  
"Makes sense. Sorry, didn't mean to go there."  
  
"It's okay. Glad it was Lance, at least. We're not together or anything, but I trust him. Marcia's been embroidering a new motto for the base. I think it goes, 'Nostra sponte, sed dracones allii sunt,' or however you say, 'Of our own accord, but it's different with dragons.'"  
  
"Yeah. That covers a lot."  
  
Teresa nodded. "So, I'd definitely be happy to talk to the kids if they ever need specialized advice, and I'd like to talk to the captain about if we can take on any of your old students if we end up with eggs. You've got a good thing going here, Mister Spencer."  
  
"Eliot, please. And yeah, thanks."  
  
"I mean, please warn me if you're ever going to go near a sauna..."  
  
"I don't do that anymore. Mostly."  
  
"Oh. Not even with an 8-second route to Damien Moreau's prison cell?"  
  
"Not even."  
  
"Changes sure are interesting." Another pause. "And if you were visiting on business when something happened with Nanneth, I don't think Yeth would try to shove Koth."  
  
  
Eliot smiled and sighed. "Thanks, darlin'. But Koth's the worst with loop-de-loops."


	10. Castles in the Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new generation spurs action

The beach was hot, and Nate was glad for an excuse to sweat. What was filling the air was definitely more than just the sun beating down.

The dragons were watching, intent, falling in together like a cathedral choir doing warmups. Nate honestly couldn't tell if he was hearing it out loud or not. 

He looked at the students standing wide-eyed on the sand, unhampered by ignorance of what the heck was going on.

Except they didn't know, not really. Even with all the efforts, there was only so much that could truly be explained.

Then came the cracking.

Dun-colored shell-fragments fell away from bronze scales, and a little creature about the same size Iraeth had been looked around. 

It was happening again.  To someone else, but it was happening again.  Nate watched while Mickey Flores was clearly punched in the gut by every single Christmas morning at once.

As the newly-hatched dragon darted for the young San Lorenzan, the emotional feedback loop from Iraeth tugged at memories of a hospital maternity ward, which always dragged with it the lead anchor of another hospital.  

Nate boxed that up and buried it for now.  _Congratulations, Iraeth. It's a boy._   

"THIS WAY TO THE MEAT, KID!" Parker shouted, directing Mickey when he understandably floundered. She'd volunteered for that responsibility rather gleefully.

With twelve students-and-dragons to be navigated around the other twelve students safely, and with Sophie focused on Dasdath, Eliot on general student oversight, and Hardison on satellite rerouting at such a sensitive time, Nate had agreed to ask Sgt. More over to help out, too. She in turn had brought Cpl. Oliver. There'd been some 'practice' getting the dragons well familiarized with the guests, and fortunately Dasdath was at this point as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

So as the first green shot towards Farah like a tiny iridescent racehorse, and the first brown marched laboriously towards Joe, they were each guided off to the baby-dragon-care supply station Eliot'd supervised. Dr. Wendy Ping stood on hand to administer neonatal exams.

"Circle of life, baby," Hardison crooned to the whole crew over the coms. "First naturally completed reproductive cycle in dragon history."

"I ... they.... we..." Sophie gasped through tears. "So beautiful."

Another green for Gloria, and then the following eight dragons were an alternating series of little boys blue and girls green. All matched up with male and female students, proving Ping the Elder's warnings very necessary indeed.

"Bit of a demographic shift," said Sterling espite having absolutely no right to be there. "Greens are apparently meant for the front row."

"Not a game, Sterling. They're kids."

"They grow up fast."

 

****

Eighteen months later, Eliot was calling suggestions to the sky, watching the young dragons formed a V.

When he was satisfied, they landed.

"Why are we learning flying formations, Coach?" Farah asked. "I'm going back to the mountains in six months. She'll be the only dragon there. We're all going to have only one dragon there, except for Mickey's Troth and--" 

"Don't talk to me about who Troth's going to be dealing with.  That's a nightmare."

"Coach, it made some sense for Mickey's uncle to recommend Mister Sterling for that job. It doesn't mean he didn't trust you."

"Couldn't wait to have it done right. Now they're gonna have two bronzes, one I can't vouch for, in the same space."

"Can you forget about Mister Sterling for a minute, Coach?"

"No, darlin', but I'll try anyway. You're wondering why to practice co-op when you're gonna be the only dragon-rider in Kashmir?"

"Yes."

"Because distance ain't a thing anymore, Farah. We'll all be 8 seconds away." Eliot smiled. "If Dasdath ever has a reason to call everybody home, then everybody's gotta be ready for everything."

"You think your government is finally going to try something?"

"Thinking it ain't my job," Eliot said. "Being ready is. You want to see some thinking, try the circus in there."

 

****

 

"Hardison, what is this?" Nate was asking inside.

"This?" Hardison asked incredulously.  "This? This is just _three years,_ seven months, and 9 days of _intense_ preparation work, Nate.  _This_ is the foundation for the ultimate weapon in the survival of this species."

"I'm glad you've put a lot of work into the public relations stuff, Hardison. I agree that it's important. I just literally don't know how to pronounce, for instance, this site."  Nate pointed.

"It's pronounced Dragon Resourth -- like resource, but with a 'th,' it's a goddang pun, Nate -- Dot Tumbler Dot Com. Tumblr's the same with or without the e. That's one of the art ones. I've kept things whetted with photographs for everyone to argue whether or not they're digital paintings, but I also do actual paintings and put them up on fan accounts, keep that community going. Now, over here are my AO3 accounts. Now, we were nominated in Yuletide for the first couple years after the resignation video dropped, but after the Delta-3s let me leak their dragon porn, we are no longer eligible."

"So you made a mistake?"

 

"No, Nate, I mean, they decided we were too big for Yuletide anymore. Look, I don't have time to explain this to you. Just accept that I am good at what I do and let me talk about the livestream."

"A livestream. So... that's how you're going to .... weaponize our fanboys?"

"Our demographics are predominantly fangirls," Hardison clarified, gesturing to the lines upon lines of screen names offering various theories or reactions to 'the meta.' "But we're very inclusive."

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Azarias for both co-planning and beta-ing.


End file.
